Chapter 1

Catherine and Carl had gotten married when they were both 26.

The service was very nice and so was the reception afterward. It had been hosted by Catherine's parents, who were well known around town and had a high position among the community in which they lived. They were known for their clean way of life and never starting any trouble. Instead they sponsored many events around the community, such as clean-up drives, planting trees and making sure the lawns in the area were well kept and tended.

While Catherine and Carl were on their honeymoon, Catherine's parents were killed in a house fire. It was later determined that the fire was due to a spark thrown from the open fireplace. Her father had neglected, for the first time, to put the screen up before going to bed that night.

The year was 1935 and Catherine and Carl rushed home, never having the opportunity to consumate their marriage.

It had been a night that Catherine had dreaded and was only too glad to put it off.

The funeral was 2 days later and, of course, the whole town attended. At her new home, which Carl had recently finished building, the guests mingled with everyone and expressed their condolences to both of them. It lasted well into the night and by the time the last family had left the two of them were too tired to think of anything buy sleep. In the darkened bedroom they got undressed and quietly slipped under the covers of the bed and quickly fell into an undisturbed sleed.

Catherine's grief gave her an excuse to refuse Carl the chance to take his wife's cherry and, after many weeks of trying, Carl decided it was time he did something about it.

The next week Carl visited the local library and did some research into the history and application of hypnosis. He'd heard some things from his best friend, Jerry, and thought it might be something he could use on Catherine to weaken her resolve towards sex.

May times after the funeral he'd brought up the subject, only to have his wife either ignore him, walk out of the room, or start an argument. Many a night he'd have to crawl out of bed, after making sure that Catherine was asleep, and go into the bathroom and jack off for some relief. All he could do was imagine what his wife looked like under all the night clothes she wore every night. She wouldn't even let him cop a feel of her boobs, not that she had anything to play with in the first place. Like his former mother-in-law, Catherine was almost completely flat chested.

Carl would go to the library two nights a week and do his reading. He didn't want Catherine aware of what he was up to. If he could come up with the courage to do this then he wanted her to be completely unaware of what was happening. He wanted her to believe that she'd never released her pent up feelings and given in to his advances.

After three weeks of reading he was ready to try out his technique, to see if he could actually get her hypnotized and do what he wanted to with her.

On the following Saturday night he got ready for bed, like every other night. This time though, he decided the time was right to try and hypnotize Catherine. As he sat in the bed, waiting for his wife to emerge from the bathroom, he worked on his plan. He would get up to her when she sat on her side of the bed and begin to massage her shoulders. It was something he'd already started the previous week and he was glad that she liked it. He also noticed that several minutes later her head would start to nod and fall forward until her chin rested on her upper chest. He already started to try and get her into a trance, and several times thought he'd succeeded. One one occasion he'd actually gotten her to answer his questions and was glad to find out the next morning that she apparently didn't remember anything from the previous night.

Tonight he was going to go further and try to plant a suggestion in her mind and wait and see what would happen.

As he waited his plan formed and by the time Catherine sat on the bed he was ready.

For ten minutes he massaged her shoulders, feeling the days tension slowly release its hold. As he worked he talked to her and once again her head nodded forward and eventually rested on her chest.

"Catherine?"

No response.

He tried again. "Catherine?"

"Yes," she answered dreamily.

"Good," he thought to himself. "I want you to listen to me," he began.

"Ok."

"From this minute on you will listen to my voice. You won't hear anything else by my voice."

"Yes, dear. I will hear only your voice."

He quit his massage and moved to sit next to her on the side of the bed. He took her hand in his and talked slowly and clearly to her.

"Whenever I mention Buttermilk, you will go into a trance and you'll do everything I ask you to do." He stopped for a moment and let the suggestion sink in. "Do you understand?"

"Yes. Whenever you tell me Buttermilk, I'm to go into a trance and listed to you and do whatever you want me to."

"Yes. I'm glad you understand."

He got back behind her and started his massage once again. After a couple of minutes he woke her up and let her know he was finished and it was time to get in bed and turn out the lights.

That night he dreamed of fucking her again.

After he got out of his morning shower he was tempeted to try out his suggestion at the breakfast table, but decided he would wait til he got home that evening after work. After all, he didn't want to push it. He'd been patient for a while now, so it wasn't going to hurt to wait a little longer.

While Carl was at work that day Catherine decided it was time to hire someone to help her around the yard, doing the work to maintain the lawn and the hedges. Her father had used one of the towns many black men, his name had been Jessie, and she decided to get in touch with him to see if he knew anyone who would be willing to work at her place. Of course she'd pay a decent wage, just as her father had.

She sent word to Jessie that she needed to talk to him and could he be at the house around noon that day.

Jessie as only a little older then she was, somewhere between 30 and 35 and had worked for her father for a number of years before the accident. She'd grown to like the man. He was honest, didn't cause any problems, and never missed a day of work. She hoped she'd be lucky enough to find someone like him to help her.

His reply was that he'd be there.

At 12:15 she heard a knock on her back door and knew it would be Jessie. She found him standing on the back porch waiting for her.

"I'll be right with you, Jessie. Please, have a seat and I'll bring you a glass of water. I know it's hot out there today and after that long walk I'm sure you're parched."

"Thank you, Misses Wilson. I sure do appreciate it."

When Catherine returned she found him sitting in the rocker, next to the porch swing, where she sat after handing him the water. She watched as he drank the whole thing in only two or three gulps.

"Thank you, Misses Wilson. That was mighty nice of you."

"You're welcome, Jessie.

"The reason I asked you to come here today is that I need to find someone to do the chores around the house. You know, like you used to do for my father."

"I'd be happy to do that for you, Misses Wilson."

"Are you sure, Jessie?"

"Yes, mam. I'm sure. I haven't really done anything since your parents passed and I really enjoyed working for your daddy. He was nice to me and respected me, as much as I respected him."

"Yes, Jessie. Daddy liked your work very much. I'd be happy to pay you a little more the he paid you, considering it's been 10 years since the accident. I know he didn't pay you much, but I'd like to increase that, if it's ok with you."

The look of surprise on Jessie's face told her he'd gladly accept the raise.

"Good! When can you start?"

"I'm in the middle of re-doing my bedroom at home. I should be finished by the middle of next week. Would the following weekend be ok with you?"

Catherine didn't even think about it.

"Yes, that would be fine. I can have everything ready for you by then. I'll pay you at the end of each week, on Fridays, if that's ok with you."

"That'll be fine, Misses Wilson."

"There's only one conditon, too, Jessie."

A puzzled look now appeared on his face, which was as black as the blackest coal in their coal bins. "And what would that be," he asked.

"I'll have to insist that you don't call me Misses Wilson anymore."

"Oh, Misses Wilson, I couldn't do that."

"Yes, you can. From now on I want you to just call me Catherine, or Miss Catherine, whichever you prefer."

"But what would Mr. Wilson say to that?"

"You let me worry about Mr. Wilson," she told him. "You and I have know each other for most of our lives and I see no harm in you calling me by my first name. OK?"

"Yes, mam."

Catherine stood up, indicating to Jessie the conversation was finished.

"You take care of your business at home and I'll see you next weekend."

"Thank you, Misses Wils... , I mean Miss Catherine. I'll be here."

With that settled, Jessie left the porch and headed down the road, towards his house.

Carl fantasized about what he was going to do all that day at work. At times it was all he could do to concentrate on the work on his desk. Finally he decided that if he didn't want to get fired he'd better get his work done, and done on time. The rest of his day went without incident and by 5:15 he was on his way home, and to his wife.

Catherine was in the kitchen when he got home, putting the finishing touches on supper. Tonight there would be fried chicken, field peas, biscuits and homemade tea.

He stood in the doorway between the dining room and the kitchen and watched her as she worked on finishing the meal.

Without really thinking about what he was going to do he said, "Buttermilk".

What happened caught him off guard.

As soon as his wife heard Buttermilk, she slumped and sagged towards the floor. It was all he could do to catch her before she hit the floor. He picked her up and carried her to the living room and placed her on the sofa.

"It worked!" he almost shouted. He couldn't believe it had actually worked!

"Catherine? Can you hear me, dear?"

"Yes, Carl. I hear you."

She sounded far away and he noticed her eyes were closed. Apparently his hypnotic suggestion had worked just fine.

"Easy," he thought to himself. One step at a time here. After all, he wanted to make sure this worked and he didn't want her waking up and discovering what he was doing. She'd be mad as hell at him, not that he wouldn't have deserved it.

He sat back in his chair and thought for a moment.

"Catherine."

"Yes?"

"I want you to sit up straight and remove your blouse and bra, please."

As he sat there he was startled to see her sit up straight and start to upbutton the front of her blouse. Once she was finished she reached behind her and unhooked her bra, pulling her arms our of the straps and placing it in her lap.

In the just over 10 years they'd been married this was actually the first time she's exposed herself to him.

He'd always wondered what her tits looked like. He knew they were small, almost nonexistant, but what he saw in front of him truly amazed him.

Her Areolas were as large, or larger, than silver dollars and her nipples appeared to stick out from her chest like erasers on a pencil.

"Pinch your nipples until they're hard," he told her.

He watched as she raised her hands to her chest and took a nipple in each hand, pinching each one between her fingers and thumbs until they stood out even further.

Getting up from his chair he crossed the room and sat next to her, noticing that her nipples to stand out at least an inch or better. He reached out to feel them himself and found them to be as hard as rocks.

"Nice," he thought.

He returned to his chair. He wanted her to feel safe and secure and didn't want to appear to intimidate her or make her feel ashamed of her body.

"Now, I want you to stand up and remove your skirt and your panties, please."

Catherine stood up, unbuttoned her skirt and let it drop to the floor. Next her white cotton panties joined it. She stepped out of them as sat back on the sofa.

"Spread your legs, please."

She did and he could see her pussy for the first time. She had an abundance of hair between her legs and he found that he'd like to see her without any hair down there at all.

"Tomorrow I want you to shave your pussy and keep it that way. You'll think it was completely your own idea and think nothing else about it. Understand?"

"Yes."

"You can get dressed again, dear. Once you've gotten all your clothes on you'll return to the kitchen and finish with supper. You will not remember any of this. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

Carl got up and went to the bathroom to wash up and get ready for supper. When he got to the dining room the meal was already laid out on the table and ready to eat. They enjoyed a nice meal and every time Carl would look at her he'd smile.

"I hope this works," he thought.

As Catherine grew up she was led to believe that sex was only for procreation and not for enjoyment.

Her mother drummed into her that sex was nasty and she was only to consent to 'relationships' with her husband when they decided it was time to conceive and have children.

One time her mother has caught her masturbating and gave her the beating of her life. She explained that it was nasty and she wasn't to do it again.

Even though Catherine had enjoyed the feelings she'd gotten from stroking herself (She never realized what that dizzy feeling was when she climaxed) she decided that her mother was right and she never did it again.

She knew that her Carl would want to 'have her' on their wedding night, and she'd secretly dreaded just the thought of it. Then the accident had happened and she'd used her grief as an excuse not to give in to her husband. So far it had worked out.

But, she knew she wouldn't be able to deny him much longer. His insistance that she give in to him only grew each and every week and there were times when she hated going to bed, because she knew what he was going to ask of her.

Lately though, after his nighly massage, he'd quit asking her and she decided that he'd finally realized she wasn't going to let him do anything until she was ready. And that was only going to happen when she decided she was ready to start a family. She'd use sex only for procreation, as her mother had told her.